


To Shield and To Protect: Missing scenes

by afterthenovels



Series: To Shield and To Protect [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Missing Scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterthenovels/pseuds/afterthenovels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few missing scenes from To Shield and To Protect, set towards the end of the main fic or after it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Do Not Disturb

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I actually planned of putting in the fic itself, but in the end it just didn't fit and would've been really disconnected, so I left it out. Set during chapter 20, and basically it's an excuse to write more about Wes. Because I do love him. :D

Wes drops his keys on the small table by the door, pull off his coat and sighs. Home at last. He's had the most dreadful day – well, maybe not dreadful, but horribly busy at least. After picking up Blaine from the airport in the morning and dropping him off at his and Sarah's house, Wes has been running around the city, from one meeting to another, his phone ringing all the time, as if each and every one of his clients has decided to need him right now and right at this moment. Honestly, the only thing missing from this day is Rachel calling him about something unnecessary.

It's not that Wes dislikes Rachel or anything, of course not – she's fun to have around, she's passionate about what she does, she's a good client and she gets along surprisingly well with Sarah, despite their differences – but she is sometimes a bit... too much.

Wes drags his hand through his hair and listens to the silence of his house. Sarah is still working, a late night at her bakery because of a wedding catering job tomorrow, and Blaine is probably in the guest room, immersed in a book or fervently writing job applications. Maybe they could have a late dinner, just him and Blaine, talk about music and Blaine's plans for the future. That sounds nice right now, and there are probably still some left-overs in the fridge.

Wes is just about to call out for Blaine when his phone starts ringing in his pocket, the noise loud and startling in the silence. He fishes the device out and glances at the screen.

_Rachel Berry calling._

Of course.

Wes sighs and answers the phone. "Hello Rachel."

"Wes! Wes, oh my god!" Rachel exclaims, and Wes unconsciously pulls the phone away from his ear, just a little. "I've been trying to call Kurt all evening but he's not picking up, and I'm starting to get really worried – what if something has happened, Wes, what if the stalker has come back or Kurt is in trouble or something? I think I should go there, just to make sure everything is alright, I mean don't you think that it's –"

"Rachel," Wes stops her, keeping his own voice steady. "Calm down. The stalker is behind bars and he's not getting out, remember? And I'm sure Kurt has a good reason for not picking up his phone. He's probably working or has forgotten his phone or something."

"Kurt doesn't forget his phone," Rachel says, her voice scarily calm and even, as if she's just waiting for the right moment to start panicking again. "He's like you, Wes, he never leaves his phone anywhere! And he can't be working! I was just talking to him on the phone a few hours ago – he was helping me with a wardrobe problem, and then he suddenly went quiet and just said that he'll call me back and then he _hung up_ on me but –" Rachel takes a deep breath, "– but it's been hours and he hasn't called back, and I've been trying to call him myself but I can only get his voicemail, and I'm starting to get really worried, Wesley."

Wes pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "I'm sure he's fine, Rachel."

"You said that the last time, and look what happened with the anonymous fan that you called completely harmless!"

Wes sighs again. He's probably never going to hear the end of that from Rachel; she'll just keep reminding him of the anonymous fan for as long as she's his client.

Rachel continues talking on the other end of the line as Wes moves through his home, loosening his tie and opening the uppermost buttons of his shirt. He has learned to tune out Rachel every now and then, especially when she starts to overreact. And yes, Wes knows that the last time didn't turn out to be overreacting, thank you very much, he is well aware of it – he's the one who spent the entire night in the hospital, pacing the corridor outside Blaine's room, terrified that one of the doctors was going to come out any second and tell him that Blaine wasn't stable anymore. He's the one who tried to keep Kurt, Rachel, Blaine's parents and Cooper to stay calm. He's the one who was silently beating himself up when the anonymous fan turned out to be an actual stalker who decided to threaten one of his clients and stab his best friend.

Wes is well aware of it all, but he has let go of it by now. That's what he does, that's what makes him a good agent: he knows how to move on and focus on other things. After all, things worked out in the end, and he had to stop beating himself up the moment he realized that he needed to focus on helping both Kurt and Blaine deal with the fallout of the stalker situation.

Wes stops, his fingers still holding on to his tie. Speaking of Blaine... Why hasn't he come out of the guest room yet? He must have heard Wes by now.

"Wesley, are you listening to me?" Rachel asks in his ear, sounding annoyed and shaking Wes from his thoughts.

Wes turns to look towards the guest room and tilts his head. "Can you hold on for just a moment, Rachel?"

Rachel starts to say something, but Wes ignores her and lowers his phone. He walks to the guest room door, knocking on it a few times. He waits for a moment, but no one answers, and eventually he eases the door open, peering into the room. Blaine's suitcases are still next to the bed, his laptop and the pile of notes he had made for his job applications still on the small table by the window, but there's no sign of Blaine himself.

Wes steps into the room and looks around. Blaine hadn't said anything about going out today. He had already rehearsed the speech he was going to give to Kurt several times on the phone with Wes and even once in the car on their way from the airport, but he'd also said that he didn't feel ready yet, that he was going to spend a few days in New York and then go see Kurt. Wes furrows his brows. Maybe Blaine's gone out to find that restaurant he's always talking about or something, but surely he would've called...

That's when Wes notices the piece of paper on top of Blaine's laptop. He picks it up, reading the hurried words written on it.

 

_Wes,_

_I'm going to go stop being a doofus. Wish me luck._

_\- B_

 

Wes blinks a few times, the words slowly registering in his mind, and then he can't help it: he barks out a laugh before collapsing on the guest room bed, shaking his head to himself with a smile. He should have known that as soon as Blaine was in New York he wouldn't be able to sit still anymore, no matter how nervous he was or no matter what he said about waiting for a few days. He should have known.

After a moment Wes hears the tinny voice still coming from his phone, and he immediately remembers the reason Rachel had called in the first place. He lifts the phone to his ear, right in time to hear Rachel say, "– that's it, I'm going to go there and see if everything's alright and..."

"Rachel. Don't go to Kurt's place," Wes interrupts her.

"Oh, so now you're listening again? Wesley, I'm worried about him, he should've picked up by now and I –"

"He's fine, Rachel, trust me," Wes assures her. "I... I'm pretty sure Blaine's with him right now."

"Blaine?" Rachel sounds confused. "But I thought Blaine was in college? In Ohio? What would he be doing with Kurt?"

"He graduated. He came to New York today," Wes explains. "And uh, well, as to what he's doing with Kurt..."

He lets his voice trail off. Rachel is quiet for a moment, but then Wes can hear a sharp intake of breath. "Oh. _Oh!_ So they are...?"

"Most likely, yes."

"Huh. Well, it was about time," Rachel huffs.

"I agree."

"So I should probably stop calling Kurt?"

"That might be a good idea. All things considered and so on."

"Right. I'll call him tomorrow, then. Yes. Goodnight, Wes! Tell Sarah I said hi!"

"Will do. Bye, Rachel."

Wes listens as Rachel hangs up and then looks again at the piece of paper in his hand, reading the words a few times. He can feel a goofy grin tugging the corners of his mouth, and he honestly feels like punching the air or putting on some of his old jazz records and dancing through his home – something he hasn't done since high school. Because Blaine did it. Blaine actually did it. Wes has always been proud of Blaine, has always known how nervous he can be about certain things, especially after everything he's gone through – but now Blaine has faced pretty much all of his fears, and Wes couldn't be more proud of his best friend than he is at this moment.

And judging from the fact that Blaine's nowhere to be seen and Kurt's not answering his phone... Well, things must have turned out pretty damn well.

Wes laughs and then promptly presses speed-dial one on his phone. It rings a few times, but eventually Sarah answers, sounding tired but happy, the noises of the bakery echoing in the background, and Wes can't exactly help it if his smile widens even more.

"Honey?" he says. "Could you bring some of those amazing cupcakes home with you? I think we should celebrate."


	2. Just Like a Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the missing scene I used to call Chapter 20b before it got its official title, mostly because this continues right after chapter 20. Or well, sort of right after. Anyways, it's very gratuitous (in more ways than one) and fluffy and basically just me making up for all the angst in the main fic.

When Kurt wakes up again it’s almost noon and the room is bathed in blinding sunlight, so different from the one he woke up to for the first time a few hours ago. He blinks his eyes open, feeling blissful and rested, his skin still tingling from Blaine’s touch – from warm fingers mapping each part of his body, exploring with a tenderness that Kurt doesn’t think he has ever felt before. He stretches and reaches out his own hand with a sleepy smile on his lips, ready to brush his fingertips over Blaine’s bare chest or arms. Just to make his own skin tingle even more, to make that delicious itch seep even deeper into his body.

Except the other side of the bed is empty.

Kurt sits up, confused, and looks around, suddenly terrified that it was all just his imagination, that he once again had a dream of Blaine coming back, only to wake up in an empty bed with an empty feeling in his heart. But the other side of the bed still feels warm under his hand, the sheets are more tangled than usually, and finally he notices that there’s a pile of clothes on the chair next to the bed: a red cardigan and a pair of dark jeans that Kurt remembers were lying on the floor last night, hastily thrown off.

He blushes with just the memory of it, like he’s back to being a silly teenager – and then he hears the singing. The door to his bedroom is ajar, and someone is singing in the kitchen, a soft melody echoing through the apartment, too muffled for Kurt to recognize the song but loud enough to make him realize that this isn’t another dream. This is real, the man who’s singing in the kitchen and whose clothes are folded haphazardly on the chair is real – and oh, Kurt is starting to think he likes this version of real a lot, probably even more than those dreams of his.

He feels his mouth turn into a silly grin as he kicks the comforter off, instantly shivering when the air hits his naked skin. He fishes a pair of underwear from the floor – they look familiar, so they are probably his – and quickly pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a loose hoodie as well, rolling up the sleeves. The floor is cold under his bare feet, but it’ll probably be warmer in the kitchen, in more ways than one, so he makes his way to the hallway and pads quietly to the kitchen doorway.

A weird sense of déjà vu hits him as soon as he sees the scene in his kitchen. The radio is playing Van Morrison quietly, an older song that Kurt remembers his dad and Carole danced to in their living room one evening when he was still in high school. The singer’s voice is deep and relaxing, full of adoration and love, and the words – _when I’m with you again, you just steal my heart away_ – make a fond smile tug at the corners of Kurt’s lips. His coffee machine is humming on the counter and a pan full of bacon and eggs is sizzling on the stove, the voices drowned under the music.

And then there’s Blaine, Blaine in his bright red boxer-briefs and the bowtie apron wrapped loosely around his body. He’s wearing nothing else, and his tanned skin is almost glowing in the sunlight, his muscles moving as he sways to the music. His back is to Kurt, the strings of the apron hanging over his ass, and Kurt just wants to reach out, map those lines and curves of Blaine’s bare skin all over again by himself, wants to memorize them just in case this turns out to be a dream anyway, a wonderful dream that could never be real because things like this just don’t happen to Kurt Hummel.

They don’t. They never do.

Kurt almost reaches down to pinch the back of his hand to see if he will wake up, but he settles for just blinking his eyes a few times, expecting to see some sort of a thick fog that clears everything away – but instead he just keeps seeing the same scene even more clearly as his eyes adjust. Blaine doesn’t disappear. He’s still there, still half-naked, still showing so much skin, still wearing that ridiculous apron that Kurt had labeled as Blaine’s after the first time he wore it, still singing Van Morrison under his breath, still real.

Still someone Kurt can touch, still someone whose touch makes Kurt feel complete and safe, and maybe things like this do happen to him every once in a while after all.

Kurt blinks his eyes once more, just to get the sudden dampness to go away. Then he crosses the room and wraps his arms around Blaine from behind, resting his chin on Blaine’s shoulder and standing as close to him as he can, feeling the warmth of his skin against his own arms. Blaine startles at first, but then he laughs, surprised and pleased, and continues to move his hips to the music, forcing Kurt to sway with him.

“Morning,” he sing-songs as he flips the bacon on the pan.

“Extraordinarily good morning,” Kurt replies, nuzzling the back of Blaine’s neck. “Aren’t you cold? I feel cold just from watching you.”

Blaine shakes his head. “Nope. Your bed is so warm that I feel like I’m going to be carrying that warmth with me for the rest of the day.”

Kurt hums and closes his eyes. It’s weirdly domestic, in a different way than they were when Blaine was still his bodyguard. Back then there were all those distances and curtains and doubts between them, like physical barriers that stopped them from touching each other like this, and Kurt didn’t even dare to imagine that he could someday hold a half-naked Blaine in his arms in the middle of his own kitchen. They were friends, in the end, and there was always something more, something hiding beneath the surface, both of them just too afraid of everything to let it show – but Kurt still didn’t dare to hope for this. It was too fragile, too easily taken away from him.

But he can hope now. He can hope that he can keep this.

“You can’t seem to stop touching me,” Blaine says after a while, still stirring the eggs on the pan.

Kurt can hear the smile in Blaine’s voice, so he just leans a little closer and hums again. “I thought you said you didn’t mind?”

“I don’t, of course I don’t,” Blaine answers. He turns the stove off, moves the pan away from the heat and then turns around in Kurt’s arms so that they’re facing each other. “I just... Are you sure everything is alright? With... us and this new relationship thing?”

Blaine’s eyes are bright and worried, and Kurt is suddenly reminded of what made him stop and look at Blaine more closely the first time they met. The kindness in his eyes is still there, the way he seems to read Kurt’s face, see behind his protective words and walls without any effort. Kurt has often found it unnerving when people search his face; it makes him want to turn away and say something biting, downplay everything – but with Blaine standing so close to him he realizes that this time he doesn’t want to be anything but honest.

“It’s just... I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up and you’ll be gone again,” he whispers.

Blaine’s eyebrows furrow in concern and sadness, and Kurt hastens to continue. “I know why you left in the first place, I do, and I don’t blame you or anything, it’s not that, I just...” He thinks for a moment, trying to find the exact reason why he’s so afraid. “I think there’s a part of me that’s just waiting for you to say that you have a job back in Ohio, and as glad as I would be for you I can’t... I don’t want to lose you anymore, not after everything. Maybe that’s selfish when we’ve only been boyfriends for a few hours, and god, that really _does_ sound pretty mean and demanding, but I don’t want to –”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupts, framing Kurt’s face with his hands. His smile is a little exasperated but so incredibly loving that it takes Kurt’s breath away. “Would it make you feel better if I told you that I’ve already applied for a job in New York?”

Kurt’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“I didn’t want to assume anything, but I decided that I want to stay in New York, no matter what happened between us,” Blaine explains. “I mean I was hoping for _this_ , of course I was, but even if you had told me to leave and never come back I would’ve still stayed in the city because I’ve... Because I’ve always wanted to live here. Ever since high school. I just never had the guts to do it.” Blaine blinks his eyes and ducks his head with a blush. “So I... Wes knows this teacher who works in a middle school around here, and their music teacher is actually going on maternity leave soon, and they... I applied for the job. I don’t know if I’ll get it, but I’ve also applied for practically every music teacher job that I could find in this area. I – I hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous or anything –”

It’s Kurt’s turn to interrupt Blaine, and he does it by pressing his lips against Blaine’s and swallowing the words that are about to come out of his mouth. Blaine’s eyelids flutter closed in surprise and he practically melts against Kurt, his muscles loosening under Kurt’s hands and his body bending back a little when Kurt tilts his head and deepens the kiss. The touch of Blaine’s skin under his lips and hands makes Kurt’s whole body tingle again in the best possible way, as if Blaine’s touch is a flame running through his skin cells, an ember he doesn’t want to put out.

Eventually Kurt pulls away, his lips instantly aching from the loss of contact. “You’re not going back to Ohio then?” he asks, his voice low.

“No,” Blaine breathes out, blinking his eyes open. He licks his lips and gives a small smile. “I’m... I’m staying here. If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Kurt laughs, resting his forehead against Blaine’s shoulder. “I literally can’t stop touching you, that should tell you how okay it is. And I did mean it when I said that I’m never saying goodbye to you again. Just... Blaine, you graduated.” Kurt lifts his head, staring into Blaine’s eyes, the realization suddenly hitting him. “Oh my god. You _graduated_. You stopped being a bodyguard, went back to college and got your diploma and then you came back here and you... You did everything you said you wanted to do. God, Blaine – I can’t believe I forgot to say this last night, but I honestly couldn’t be happier for you. And I’m so, so proud of you. And of the fact that I get to be with you.”

Blaine’s breath hitches, and Kurt can see the way his eyes are shining, how the unshed tears are pooling in Blaine’s eyes until one of them breaks free and slips down his cheek. Kurt lifts his hand to brush it away, a little mesmerized by the fact that they managed to go from half-naked cooking to tears in such a short time. Blaine lets out a small laugh.

“I’m so happy that I don’t have to be your bodyguard anymore, Kurt,” he chokes out. “That I can just... be myself. Just Blaine.”

“I’m happy for that as well,” Kurt whispers and leans in to press a small kiss on Blaine’s cheek, right on the tear track still visible on his skin. “I quite like this just Blaine.”

Blaine makes a choking sound at the back of his throat and then his arms are scrambling to wrap themselves more tightly around Kurt, holding on to the fabric of Kurt’s hoodie like they never want to let go. Blaine burrows his face in Kurt’s shoulder, clinging to him with his whole body, and Kurt lets him, running his own hands up and down Blaine’s naked back until he rests them above the curve of Blaine’s ass, playing with the strings of the apron and pressing another small kiss on Blaine’s bare shoulder. Blaine is warm and real in his arms, the radio is playing a soft song behind them, and the way sunlight is sliding across Blaine’s skin makes the whole moment feel so real, so unbelievably precious, that Kurt doesn’t even stop to think when the words come out of his mouth:

“I want you to move in with me.”

Blaine lifts his head in surprise. He slowly untangles his arms and leans back against the counter, searching Kurt’s face. “W-what?” he hiccups, blinking the tears from his eyes.

“I... I want you to move in with me,” Kurt repeats, a bit more hesitantly this time, the small distance between him and Blaine making him wonder if this was the right thing to say after all. “I don’t know where you’d thought you were going live in New York, but I’d like you to live here. With me.”

“Kurt...” Blaine starts, tilting his head. “Are... are you sure that’s what you want? I mean, we just figured things out last night. I don’t want us to take this too fast and then regret it later.”

“I don’t want to take things slow anymore,” Kurt says, echoing the words Blaine said last night. “We basically took things slow for months, and I don’t want that anymore. I... I already got used to having you here when you were my bodyguard. To waking up next to you and sitting with you in the living room and making dinner with you. Together.” Kurt reaches down to take Blaine’s hand, clasping it tightly. “It’s... It’s so lonely here without you, Blaine. And I understand if you don’t want to move in yet, if you want to take it slowly... but I know that I want this. I want you here.”

He hadn’t actually even thought about it before the words came out of his mouth – the idea of Blaine living with him had been just a fleeting image in those dreams he had every night before yesterday – but now that he stops and looks at Blaine, it feels... right. It feels like home, like Blaine belongs in this apartment with him. The bowtie apron is Blaine’s, that corner of the guestroom where Blaine’s punching bag used to hang is Blaine’s, that one spot on the sofa where Blaine used to sit with his guitar or with his laptop and books is Blaine’s, and Kurt doesn’t want this apartment to be only his anymore. He wants to share it again, wants to have voices and someone else’s presence in his apartment again, wants to invite Wes and Sarah and Rachel over to his and Blaine’s place, wants to experience the utter and complete joy of waking up next to Blaine every single morning.

“I...” Blaine ducks his head with a soft laugh, amazed and unbelieving. “My dorm room never felt like home.”

Kurt bends down until he can meet Blaine’s eyes. “And this apartment feels empty without you here,” he admits quietly.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and then Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand. “Are you absolutely sure that’s what you want?” he murmurs. Always so careful, always making sure that Kurt is okay.

“I am,” Kurt assures him, his heart beating loudly inside his chest, full of hopes and trepidation. “Is that... What do you want?”

Blaine lifts his head, and the look in his shining eyes is something Kurt has only seen once or twice before – something soft and fond and brave and full of Blaine, full of love, and Kurt doesn’t care if it’s too soon to start thinking about love, that’s what he feels and sees when he looks into Blaine’s eyes, and he’s not going to ignore it, not anymore.

Blaine tugs at his hand. “I’m crazy about you, Kurt.”

Kurt bounces on the balls of his feet a little, not able to contain the joy that hearing those words from Blaine’s mouth gives to him. A shy grin makes its way to his lips. “Is that the answer I hope it is?”

“I... Yes,” Blaine says, shaking his head with a laugh. “Yes, Kurt, _yes_ – I’d love to move in with you. It’s not like I have any other apartments waiting for me or anything.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kurt asks one more time. “Like, one-hundred percent, without any doubts or second-guesses?”

“Yes,” Blaine repeats. His thumb moves over Kurt’s knuckles as he leans in, pressing his forehead against Kurt’s. All Kurt can see is Blaine’s eyelashes, shivering against Blaine’s cheeks as he closes his eyes for a moment. “This city, this apartment... It feels like home to me.”

Kurt giggles, the sound breathless and a bit watery. He can’t help it, not when this is definitely not a dream anymore, not a silly hope he has in his heart for his future or a romantic wish he makes in the middle of the night when his bed feels cold and lonely.

“I think you just went from being my ex-bodyguard to my friend to my lover to my boyfriend and to my roommate. All in less than twelve hours. Impressive,” he jokes.

Blaine laughs. “As long as I can be your roommate and boyfriend at the same time.”

“Don’t forget that you’re still my lover as well,” Kurt says, still joking, but the joke turns into reality when Blaine’s eyes darken suddenly, making the ember inside Kurt turn into a full-blown fire. Blaine leans closer, kissing him slowly, and Kurt’s hands instinctively reach behind Blaine, starting to open the strings of his apron and pressing against the thin fabric of his boxer-briefs.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes, lover,” Blaine murmurs against his lips, his own hands slipping under Kurt’s hoodie, warm and sure, and _oh_ , isn’t that a much nicer nickname than Mr. Hummel, especially if it’s followed by Blaine pressing Kurt closer to himself and his lips moving from Kurt’s lips to his neck.

Kurt groans in frustration. “Were you in the boy scouts or something?”

Blaine’s lips stop. “Excuse me?” he asks, amused.

“It’s... This knot.” Kurt pulls at the apron’s strings, the knot still annoyingly tightly in place, securing the apron around Blaine’s body when Kurt would very much like to have it off and gone right at this moment. “Did you glue it together or what?”

Blaine laughs again, but then he stops, pulling away from Kurt. “Wait, I forgot!”

Kurt reluctantly lets go of Blaine, who turns around and holds up the pan of bacon and eggs that Kurt had already forgotten.

“I made breakfast,” Blaine says with a goofy smile.

Kurt shakes his head with a sigh. “Blaine, breakfast isn’t exactly my top priority right now.”

“No, I know, but I don’t want it to get cold,” Blaine explains. He steers Kurt backwards until they reach the dining table and gently sits him down in one of the chairs. “Just... Let’s eat breakfast. Together. And then I can get rid of this apron – and the boxers,” he adds with an exaggerated wink, “– and you can get rid of all those unnecessary layers and we can continue that thing we just started.” He bends down to give Kurt’s lips a quick peck before dancing back to the stove and starting to move the food on two plates.

“You are ridiculous,” Kurt comments, touching his lips gently with a small smile when Blaine isn’t looking. He leans back in his chair after that and watches the way Blaine is moving across the kitchen, picking up two bagels and some cream cheese and humming under his breath, and it’s so damn domestic, all this teasing and kissing, this full version of Blaine, that Kurt feels like he should take a photograph of this moment, of this first morning they have as a couple, without any professional relationships or curtains between them.

“Here you go,” Blaine sing-songs, putting the other plate in front of Kurt and startling him from his thoughts. It smells delicious, and Kurt can’t even remember the last time someone made him breakfast. Blaine sits down next to him with his own plate, and then reaches out his hand to take Kurt’s, holding them together over the table and anchoring them to each other.

“Blaine,” Kurt says. “I kind of need both of my hands to eat.”

“It’s just bacon and eggs and a bagel. I’m sure you’ll manage with just one hand,” Blaine answers, the goofy smile still on his face. “Besides... I kind of can’t stop touching you either.”

Kurt smiles, ducking his head. “Alright. Just... Less talking, more eating. I seem to recall we have something we should finish after breakfast.”

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand. “Don’t worry. We have all the time in the world.”

Kurt squeezes back, his whole body feeling warm under Blaine’s gaze.

_Yeah. We do now._


	3. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a prompt on Tumblr, asking for Wes calling Cooper after Blaine is stabbed, so here it is. Set mostly between chapters 17 and 18.

Wes can feel his heart thudding painfully against his chest as he watches the paramedics load Blaine into the ambulance. Their movements are rushed but practiced in a way that tells everyone that they know what they’re doing – not that it’s any reassurance right now, in the middle of this chaos. Wes watches his best friend disappear behind the ambulance doors, lying unnaturally still on the stretcher, eyes closed and body limp; he watches as tears roll down Kurt’s face, watches how Rachel, looking paler than ever, tries to hold him still, rubbing her hands up and down Kurt’s arms.

It’s like one of those nightmares Wes has never had before, the ones where time moves sluggishly, voices sound distorted and he doesn’t even know if he can move his feet and try to hide – because Blaine was just _stabbed_ , his best friend Blaine, the same Blaine who was sitting in the Dalton cafeteria one day over a decade ago, looking small and terrified. The same Blaine who grew into a leading man with the Warblers, the Blaine who whooped and jumped to his neck when Wes asked him to be his best man. The Blaine who might trip and stumble and fall down but who always picks himself up and fights back.

There is an ugly blood stain on the floor next to Wes’ feet, and he thinks he’s going to be sick.

And that, that’s the thought that makes the nightmare stop for a moment and shifts the time back to its original pace. The bile in his throat disappears, and Wes tears his eyes away from the ambulance, away from the things he can’t control right now. Wes doesn’t lose his control. He never does, no matter how bad things get, no matter how hopeless it might look like. He needs to stay calm, he needs to take control. That’s how he deals with things. It’s the only way he knows.

Kurt is still trembling in Rachel’s arms, looking shell-shocked and like he wants to run after the ambulance at the same time. Wes takes one look at him, feeling his heart thud again, and then turns around to find Levinson, walking past the blood-stain on his way.

( _Don’t stop, don’t think about it, don’t even_ stop _to think about it_ –)

He makes sure they aren’t needed on the scene anymore, listens as Levinson reassures them that the stalker won’t get out anytime soon, then barks a few orders and gets them a ride to the hospital. He feels like pacing or dragging his hands through his hair or just collapsing on the floor, but he can’t do any of those things. He _needs_ to take control. He’s Kurt and Rachel’s agent, he’s their friend, Blaine is his friend, and the best he can do right now is stay calm and focused, control the things he can control and hope that Blaine is still as much of a fighter as he’s always been.

They’re already at the hospital when he remembers Cooper.

Kurt practically jumps out of the car, running towards the hospital and disappearing inside, Rachel close on his heels. Wes wants to do the same, desperately wants to know how Blaine is, but he slows his steps and pulls out his phone instead, scrolling through his contacts for Cooper’s phone number. He knows that they’re not going to get to see Blaine, not yet, and he knows that he has to let Cooper know first, before some random nurse finds Blaine’s emergency information and drops the bomb on Cooper. If someone has to drop the bomb, Wes would prefer it’s him. At least in that way he can try to control the situation somehow, prepare for the damage and wreckage.

His hands are shaking, nervous tremors running up and down his fingers, but somehow he manages to press ‘call’ anyway.

 

\---

 

Cooper doesn’t visit his parents that often, not anymore. He’s well over thirty, he has a life in Los Angeles, his own place and work to be done – so why should he in all honesty fly to Westerville all the time when e-mails, phone calls and Skype exist? He does come back on Christmas and Thanksgiving and one or two other holidays, and that seems to be enough for both him and his parents.

This time he made an exception though. Westerville is closer to New York than Los Angeles, and Cooper knows that Blaine has that big concert tonight, knows that the police are trying to catch the stalker at the concert, and he wants to be even a little bit closer to New York City today. Just in case. Blaine would’ve probably been mortified and weirdly embarrassed if Cooper had come all the way to New York, so Westerville it is. The next best choice.

Blaine called him earlier today, sounding calm and collected, but Cooper knows his little brother – he knows the tell-tale signs and tiny details that no one else would notice. Well, Wes probably would notice them. And perhaps Kurt might as well, if Cooper’s image of him is correct. Blaine tends to talk more about Kurt than anyone or anything else every time he calls, and if Cooper is reading this correctly, Kurt might very well know those things about Blaine that not a lot of people do.

... Man, Cooper can’t wait to tease Blaine about that. Big brotherly duties and all.

He sent a few text messages to Blaine after dinner, just to let him know that everything will be alright – Blaine has the tendency to get lost inside his own head when he’s nervous or feeling like he’s going to fail – and some time later he flops down onto the sofa, flicking the TV on. His dad has retreated back to his office already, probably going through some papers for tomorrow, and Cooper can hear his mom moving around in the kitchen. It’s calm and domestic, and sometimes he really does miss this; the days when he was young and Blaine was even younger, the times when things were just... easier.

Cooper smiles a little wistfully and starts flipping through the channels, trying to find something worth watching, when his phone buzzes on the sofa table. He mutes the television and reaches for the phone, furrowing his brows. Blaine shouldn’t be calling this early, not unless something has...

He stops when he notices the name on the screen.

_Wes (Blaine’s bestie) calling._

Wes never calls him. They have each other’s numbers and addresses, just in case, but Cooper doesn’t think he has ever really called Wes or had him call him back. His swallows, all the nervous thoughts he had about tonight trailing back to his mind – but maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just... Wes calling him. Because of something. Something that’s really nothing.

“Wes?” Cooper answers. He can hear how confused his own voice is, and his hand is gripping the phone tightly, as if he can squeeze the answers out of it if he tries hard enough.

“Cooper. Hi.” Wes sounds tired, fraying around the edges, and he sighs before continuing. “I... Where are you?”

“Westerville. I’m visiting the parents for a few days. What’s...” Cooper pauses. It’s nothing, it’s probably just nothing; they caught the stalker already and Blaine drank too much beer when they were celebrating and Wes is calling him because Blaine wants to tell him something like he always does when he’s had too much to drink but he’s too drunk and giggly to dial the number himself and –

“Blaine’s been stabbed,” Wes breathes out.

Cooper flinches away, his back hitting the backrest of the sofa.

_No._

“He... He apparently recognized the stalker, and he was trying to stop him from reaching Kurt, and then the stalker just...”

_No. No no no no no no no._

_Not Blaine. Not Squirt. Please._

_Not my little brother. Not again._

“... stabbed him, and he was just taken to the hospital. We don’t know how bad it is yet, but he lost consciousness and... Cooper?”

It feels like someone has knocked all the breath out of him, like he’s suffocating or drowning and he can’t get his lungs to expand anymore. He should probably say something to Wes, ask something, say anything. Wes is rambling on the other end of the line, and Cooper has never ever heard him ramble before, has never heard Wes this panicked, never heard the way his voice breaks barely noticeably when he seems to run out of breath, and Cooper can’t think. It’s the worst night of his life all over again – getting a phone call in the middle of night, his mom crying hysterically and saying that Blaine’s been beaten up and that he’s in the hospital – and when Blaine finally opened his eyes and gave a weak smile Cooper thought, _never again_.

He swore that he would never go through this again, but it seems like never came sooner than he thought.

Cooper can feel something wet sliding down his cheeks and he takes a shuddering breath, making Wes stop in the middle of a sentence. This is his fault. He told Blaine to become a bodyguard, he made his little brother choose a dangerous distraction because obviously Cooper’s an idiot, and now Blaine’s... Fuck. No. Focus. Blaming himself won’t do Blaine any good. He needs to focus.

“Cooper?” Wes asks.

“Is he... You don’t know anything yet?” Cooper manages to get out. He lifts his head and notices his mom standing in the doorway, staring at him with her eyes wide open.

“No, I... Kurt and Rachel went inside already, but I think they just brought Blaine in. They probably won’t be able to tell us anything yet,” Wes says.

“Fuck,” Cooper swears out loud and gets up from the sofa, turning to face his mom. “Mom, tell Dad to get us plane tickets on the next flight to New York. We have to go.”

“Cooper, what’s...” his mom starts, taking a step towards him.

“It’s Blaine,” Cooper explains, and that’s all she needs to hear. She staggers back like she’s been hit and then turns around, disappearing down the hallway that leads to the office. Cooper drags his hand down his face, trying to take deep breaths and not panic, but his lungs refuse to work properly, the space inside his chest suddenly too small and tight.

“I’m going to go inside now,” Wes says. “I’ll call you as soon as we hear something new, okay? I promise.”

“Okay,” Cooper breathes out. “Okay. Just...”

“Cooper. It’s Blaine. He’ll be alright,” Wes promises, and it really does sound like a promise, like Wes has more trust in Blaine than in anything else in the world.

“Okay,” Cooper repeats. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. Call me.”

“I will,” Wes says and hangs up.

Cooper stands still for a while, staring at his phone like it holds all the answers, trying to calm his racing heart, trying to remember all the things he learned when Blaine was in the hospital for the first time. He knows that not knowing anything at this point is good. That means that there’s a chance, that the doctors are doing everything they can, that Blaine is getting the treatment he needs. Blaine’s a fighter; that’s what Cooper’s always told himself and everyone willing to listen, ever since he looked at the tiny bundle on his mother’s lap over twenty years ago and grinned down at his new-born baby brother like the idiot he is.

Blaine won’t give up. Blaine wouldn’t do that to Cooper, or to anyone for that matter. Blaine wouldn’t dare.

They’re already almost at the airport when Cooper’s phone buzzes again. He’s been holding it in his hand ever since Wes hung up, and now he jumps in surprise, almost throwing his phone through the air. Thankfully his hands are still working, even if they are shaking more and more by the minute, and he manages to open the text message immediately.

 **From Wes (Blaine’s bestie):**  
He’s stable

Cooper finally feels like he can breathe again.

 

\---

 

(Hours later Blaine opens his eyes, blinks confusedly up at Cooper and mutters, “K’rt?” – and then promptly falls back to sleep for another few hours. Their mom starts crying again, but she is smiling this time, watery and relieved, and their dad wraps his arm around her waist, releasing a breath he had apparently been holding. Wes slumps back in his chair and gives Cooper a tired smile, one that seems to say, _I told you_.

Outside the hospital the early morning sun is rising above New York City, tiny rays of sunshine making their way through the window blinds and dancing on Blaine’s face. Cooper looks at his little brother, at the way his chest is moving peacefully under the scratchy hospital blanket, and thinks, _never again. Never ever again_.

Maybe this time he gets to be right.)


	4. Official

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt! Tumblr user just-another-pipedreamer asked me to write about the first time Blaine is the 'official' boyfriend at an event with Kurt, so this is it. Set some time after chapter 20 but before the epilogue.

“I have a fundraiser this Saturday,” Kurt says, flipping his sketchbook closed and leaning back in his arm chair.

Blaine looks up from the lesson plans scattered around him on the sofa and smiles. “I know, Kurt. You told me this morning. You even asked my opinion of the two different suits you’re considering wearing.”

Kurt purses his lips. “And you said that they were both amazing but the first one was more my style whereas the second was a bit more preppy and discreet...”

“... which aren’t exactly adjectives I would use to describe your usual clothing choices,” Blaine finishes. He pauses, putting the papers in his hands away and straightening his back. “Is... I didn’t offend you with that comment or anything?” he asks, brows furrowing.

“No, god, of course not!” Kurt exclaims and waves his hand in the air, brushing Blaine’s concern away. “It’s just that... That other suit wasn’t actually for me.”

“Oh?” Blaine tilts his head.

“It was for you,” Kurt clarifies. “I was thinking that you could come to the fundraiser. With me.”

Blaine leans back on the sofa, blinking his eyes slowly. “With you?” he repeats.

“Yes,” Kurt says. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but I didn’t know how to ask you and then I got this amazing idea for a suit you could wear, complete with a fitting bowtie and a brooch and everything, and I wanted you to see it and ask you to come with me but you were almost late for work this morning and we...”

He stops when he sees Blaine’s reaction. This isn’t going how he thought it would go. Blaine is sinking into the sofa, not meeting Kurt’s eyes – and why on earth is he reacting like that, they have been together for weeks already and Kurt thought that this would be the natural next step, going to events together and letting everyone see that they are together and nothing can touch them after everything they’ve been through already.

“Are you... Are you worried that something might happen?” Blaine asks, obviously choosing his words carefully. He crosses his arms over his chest, and Kurt almost stops himself from reaching out for him before he realizes that yes, this is _now_ , not then, and he can reach out for Blaine. He extends his arm over the sofa table and after a moment’s hesitation Blaine takes his hand, just like he always does, clasping it tightly.

“What do you mean? It’s not like we haven’t been to events together before,” Kurt jokes gently.

“No, I mean... That’s exactly what I meant.” Blaine tugs at his hand. “Do you need a bodyguard for that fundraiser because of some particular reason or...”

“Wait, what?” Kurt bends his neck until he can meet Blaine’s eyes. “Who said anything about a bodyguard?”

Blaine lifts his head. “But you said that you wanted me to...”

“Oh god.” Kurt laughs, relieved and a bit amused. “As my _date_ , Blaine. I want you to come to this fundraiser as my boyfriend. You’re my boyfriend, not my bodyguard. Not anymore.”

Blaine blinks his eyes again, and then his shoulders relax, his whole body swaying towards Kurt and a small blush appearing on his cheeks. “Oh. I thought... I don’t know what I thought,” he chuckles.

Kurt grins and lifts Blaine’s hand to press a small kiss on his knuckles. It’s still weird sometimes, no matter how many weeks pass or how many mornings they spend lying next to each other on the same bed, skin against skin. Sometimes Kurt still expects Blaine to pick up the mail every morning, expects him to steer him away from crowds, and every once in a while he can see the curtain trying to fall back over Blaine’s face, can see Blaine struggling to push it away. It blows Kurt’s mind to know how different Blaine is now, how different they both are – but they still forget sometimes, misunderstand or assume things. Those moments are happening less and less, new memories and habits drowning them out, and they can work them out. Kurt wants to work them out, and the smile on Blaine’s face when he meets his eyes tells him that Blaine still wants the same. It’s worth it.

“I know it’s probably going to be a little bit weird because of our past,” Kurt starts, “but I would really like to take you as my boyfriend. You don’t have to protect me or steer me away or anything, you can just... hold my hand.” He moves his thumb over Blaine’s knuckles in emphasis. “Stand next to me. And make that unbelievably boring fundraiser more bearable.”

Blaine snorts and shakes his head. “It _is_ going to be weird. I know that I haven’t been your bodyguard for months, I know things are different now, but the last time I was at an event with you, I was there to keep you safe and... I might revert back to it, Kurt. It could happen.”

“I know,” Kurt assures. Blaine looks genuinely worried, and he has no need to be worried about something so understandable. “It’s okay. I can remind you. And you can remind me if I start to lean into your touch too much or something.”

Blaine smiles fondly. “You already do that every time I touch you.”

Kurt smiles back and squeezes Blaine’s hand. “That’s because I like your touch. But seriously, Blaine, you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I just thought it could be –”

“I want to.” Blaine interrupts. “I do. It just... It will probably be weird, but I do want to go with you.” He looks Kurt in the eyes, his smile widening and looking so damn hopeful and adorable that Kurt just wants to jump over the sofa table and kiss him. “Might as well get used to it now.”

Kurt doesn’t know what to say to that, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed – so he just presses another kiss on Blaine’s knuckles, a promise of more to come as soon as there isn’t a table standing between them.

 

\---

 

The suit looks amazing on Blaine. Kurt knew it, of course, but seeing how the jacket fits over Blaine’s shoulders and how the pants are snuck around his legs is a whole different thing, and he can’t help running his fingers over the fabric, over Blaine’s arms and back, feeling inexplicably giddy.

He asked Blaine to come with him because Blaine is his boyfriend now and because the thought of going to the fundraiser alone felt wrong, somehow, and because he loves Blaine – they haven’t said it, not yet, but Kurt knows that’s how he feels, knows that that’s the verb that describes it the best – but he can’t exactly help it if he also wants to... show off a little. He’s never really brought any of his boyfriends to events, but now there’s Blaine, gorgeous, kind and so, so, sexy, sitting next to him on the backseat of the taxi, not as his bodyguard but as his boyfriend, looking at him a little amusedly, and yes, Kurt wants to show off his boyfriend, is that so bad?

“Kurt?” Blaine asks. “Is everything alright?”

Kurt startles, shaking his head. “What? Yes, of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you’ve been petting my arm for the last five minutes.”

Blaine smiles at him, and Kurt lets go of Blaine’s arm with a flustered blush. “Sorry. I was lost in my thoughts.” He pauses. “And you look really good in that suit.”

Blaine’s smile turns bashful and he takes Kurt’s hand, slotting their fingers together. “Thank you. Besides, it’s all thanks to you. You came up with this suit. And your own ensemble is just... breath-taking.”

There it is again, the way Blaine looks at Kurt sometimes – like his breath has literally been stolen away, like he can’t believe that he is here or that Kurt is here, like their relationship is the most precious thing in the whole world to Blaine – and it makes Kurt’s heart beat a little faster every time.

“Well, I can’t help but pull focus,” he jokes, and Blaine gives out a soft laugh.

“We’re here,” the taxi driver interrupts them, sounding bored and pulling up next to the curb outside the restaurant where the fundraiser is held.

“Are you ready?” Blaine asks, tightening his hold on Kurt’s hand.

Kurt takes a deep breath. “I am. And shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Well, you said it yourself: this is new for both of us.” Blaine glances out of the car window, furrowing his brows. “I thought there’d be a red carpet?”

“No, this is a smaller event. Probably just a few random photographers waiting outside the doors.” Kurt nudges Blaine with his shoulder. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Blaine turns to look at him, and after a moment he leans closer, ignoring the way the taxi driver is drumming his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel, and presses his lips against Kurt’s, slowly and tenderly. Kurt closes his eyes and kisses back, his hand instinctively squeezing Blaine’s and his body swaying closer to him. Blaine gives his lips one last lingering kiss and then pulls away, resting his forehead against Kurt’s and breathing out.

“I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” he says in a low voice.

Kurt smiles, as encouraging as he can, and whispers, “Let’s go then.”

“Okay.” Blaine blinks his eyes and laughs, quiet and breathless. “Okay.”

There are a few photographers waiting for them when they get out of the cab, and Kurt spares them a quick glance before focusing his eyes on Blaine’s face, looking for signs that tell him how to proceed. As he watches Blaine takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment – and when he opens them, there is a small smile on his lips, confident and comfortable, and his eyes have lost the traces of nervousness Kurt could see in them during the whole ride here. It’s not a mask, not a different kind of a curtain, because Kurt has seen this expression on Blaine’s face before, back when they were still in a professional relationship and Blaine was standing on the stage in a small karaoke bar and singing his heart out. He has seen it more recently as well whenever he has caught Blaine rehearsing for his classes, standing in front of a mirror and making faces and gestures (Kurt had giggled at first, but then Blaine had explained that it was his way of getting into his teacher persona.)

It’s Blaine’s performer smile, and for some reason seeing it on Blaine’s face right now makes Kurt think that everything will be alright.

“Mr. Hummel!” one of the photographers shouts, snagging a few photos of them as they walk past. “Who’s your friend?”

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand, and Kurt straightens his back, turning to look at the photographer over his shoulder. “Not friend,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “He’s my boyfriend.”

He doesn’t wait to catch the reaction to his comment, just keeps walking and chances a look at Blaine instead, right before they step inside the dimly lit restaurant. There is a small blush on Blaine’s cheeks, and his smile has turned a little shy.

“Are you showing me off?” Blaine asks, keeping his voice down as Kurt shows his invitation to the doorman ( _their_ invitation, it’s theirs now, the words ‘Kurt Hummel plus one’ written on the paper in a cursive font). Kurt can hear the amused undertone in Blaine’s voice and just shrugs non-committally.

“Perhaps.”

He smirks and tugs Blaine after him, leading him into the restaurant and nodding a greeting to the few people he recognizes. They make their way through the crowd, through the swarm of suits and tuxes and elegant dresses, until Kurt can finally lean against the bar and watch as Blaine orders them two glasses of wine. It’s a habit of his, finding a vantage point at first in every party he goes to, and he feels somewhat relieved when he realizes that his gaze doesn’t linger on anyone, doesn’t search for the stalker’s features from the crowd.

“Maybe I’m showing us off,” Kurt murmurs as he watches the way people’s eyes keep flickering to him and Blaine, curious and confused. Some of the people he knows well catch his eye and give him a smile because they know how big a deal this is, how important Blaine is to Kurt, and a part of Kurt feels like preening, like going around the whole room and introducing Blaine to everyone.

“Here,” Blaine says and gives him his glass of wine, leaning against the bar next to Kurt, so close that their shoulders are brushing. “Is it just my imagination or are people staring at us?”

Kurt turns to look at Blaine. “They are. Is it... Are you okay?”

Blaine takes a sip of his wine before answering. “I think I am? I almost started to guide you through the crowd when we came in, but then... Then you started to lead me towards the bar.” He pauses, twirling his glass in his fingers and furrowing his brows. “And it... I don’t know. You kept holding on to my hand.”

Kurt glances over his shoulder, seeing that the bartender has already disappeared to the other end of the bar, and then leans closer to Blaine. “I did say I like touching you,” he says.

Blaine looks up and gives a small smile. “I know. I just meant that I guess that sort of... made me forget everything about those bodyguard flashbacks I was afraid I’d have. You didn’t hold my hand when I was your bodyguard, not like that, and I...” He pauses, considering his words. “It just makes this all seem more real. More present.”

“That’s good.” Kurt clinks their glasses together. “Because I don’t feel like I’m here with my bodyguard either. I feel like I’m here with _you_. With the man I...” He stops, blinking his eyes and swallowing the verb that tries to rush out of his mouth. Not here. Not yet.

Blaine’s gaze softens and he gives a quick kiss to Kurt’s cheek. “Well then. That’s good.” He leans away again, taking another sip of his wine. “So. What is it that you usually do at events like this? When you don’t have a bodyguard following you around, I mean.”

Kurt shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “Well, usually I just mingle – go through the room and talk to people, try to make new contacts and remind different directors that they should hire me every now and then.”

Blaine hums next to him, and Kurt looks around the restaurant. There is a band on the small stage in the corner, the singer sounding a bit like Mercedes as she sings an Aretha Franklin song and sways her hips with the rhythm. A few couples are already dancing close to the stage, and Kurt can see many other people just moving to the beat as they sit at their tables or move around the room. The band does sound good, and Kurt finds himself humming as well.

“Do you want to go mingle?” Blaine asks, nodding towards the crowd.

“Mmm, not right now,” Kurt says softly. It’s nice, having someone to talk to, someone who he can call his own, someone who understands and supports him. After Blaine left he spent countless parties either getting dragged around the room by an over-enthusiastic Rachel or standing nervously by himself in a corner, hoping no one would come ask him any awkward question about the so-called assistant that used to follow him everywhere. He even skipped several events, not feeling like going, but now... He feels calm. Calmer than he has felt at any event in months. He looks at Blaine, at the way Blaine’s eyes are looking around the room, and surprisingly he isn’t reminded of bodyguard-Blaine – Blaine doesn’t look cautious or professional, just curious and like himself, like Blaine, and Kurt inwardly sighs in relief. This is another thing they can work out. Another thing they have worked out.

“So, what’s your initial reaction to being my boyfriend at an event?” he asks, bumping his shoulder against Blaine’s.

Blaine grins. “I like it. And I’m thankful that I’m not getting any weird bodyguard flashbacks.” He downs the rest of his wine and puts his glass down on the bar. “But actually... I was wondering if we could do something.”

“Oh?”

Blaine moves to stand in front of and holds out his hand with a smile. “Dance with me?”

Kurt gapes at him for a moment. He remembers Geoffrey’s birthday party, remembers how nervous he was; remembers Blaine standing in front of him in a similar way and asking him to dance with him. But that’s where the similarities end, because Kurt isn’t feeling sad now, he isn’t feeling lonely or miserable like he was at that ballroom – and Blaine’s face is like an open book, giddy and excited, not a trace of nervousness left, and sometimes Kurt is still struck by how open Blaine is around him these days, how much love and adoration he can see in Blaine’s eyes. How he can see that Blaine knows just as well as he does how different things are now, in a good way. In a very good way.

“Yes,” Kurt breathes out. “Let’s dance.”

This time he doesn’t hesitate when he takes Blaine’s hand and allows him to pull him away from the bar and to the dance floor.

The band starts another song, a soft tune that Kurt doesn’t recognize, something about the days to come and tomorrows, and he wraps his arms around Blaine, resting his chin on Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine hums the tune in his ear (because of course he would know the song, _of course_ ) and starts swaying to the melody, pressing his own cheek against the side Kurt’s neck, warm and comforting. Kurt forgets everything about the fundraiser, forgets the people all around them, and just focuses on Blaine’s body moving against his own, on Blaine’s nose nuzzling his cheek tenderly, on breathing in the faint scent of Blaine’s hair gel and aftershave.

It feels like home, being in Blaine’s arms like this, and Kurt thinks about the verb still lodged in his throat, the feelings that try to bubble out of him at least once a day, and he knows that he’ll let them out one day. One day very soon.

 

\---

 

Later that evening they stumble into their apartment, giggling and a bit tipsy, and Blaine kisses Kurt in the hallway, his lips wet and messy and tasting like the wine they had drunk. Kurt’s limbs are tired and pliant from all the dancing, his hands reaching out and untying Blaine’s bowtie at the same time as he tries to lead them towards the bedroom. He stumbles and almost trips over the carpet, but Blaine catches him, giggling breathlessly against his lips.

“That was...” Kurt whispers, nipping at Blaine’s jaw line. “That was probably the best fundraiser I’ve ever been at.”

Blaine laughs again, tilting his head back. “Kurt. You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” Kurt counters and gives a small noise of victory when he manages to pop open the uppermost buttons of Blaine’s shirt. He can finally see a sliver of tan skin underneath the shirt, and oh, how Kurt _loves_ Blaine’s skin.

Blaine’s arms circle around Kurt’s waist, his fingers pulling at the hem of his shirt. “I’m a little drunk,” he concedes, kissing the curve of Kurt’s neck. “But I’m also glad you had fun.”

“Mmm,” Kurt mumbles, not willing to let go of Blaine. They almost bump against the doorframe, but somehow Blaine manages to navigate them through the doorway and into the bedroom. “Will you be my date to the next event I have?”

Blaine leans back for a moment, his eyes surprisingly clear in the dim lighting, and his lips curve into a grin. “Only if you want me to,” he says.

Kurt can’t help himself, so he kisses Blaine again and mumbles, “Of course I do”, against his lips.

“Then I will,” Blaine whispers. “I will proudly be your date for as long as you’ll have me, Kurt.”

The backs of Kurt’s knees finally hit the mattress and they fall on the bed in a tangle of drunken limbs and kisses. Blaine cups Kurt’s cheek with his hand, his thumb stroking over his skin as he leans down to press their lips together, smiling into the kiss, and Kurt’s whole skin is tingling again – the night went so much better than he had expected, they both have moved on from their professional relationship, and Blaine’s knee is inching closer and closer to his crotch, so why on earth shouldn’t his skin tingle in that excited way that Blaine always seems to bring out in him?

Kurt doesn’t know if it’s the tingling sensation or the alcohol coursing through his veins that makes him say it, but when Blaine’s lips move to his neck he suddenly breathes out, “What if I want to have you forever?”

Blaine pauses, lifting his head and looking into Kurt’s eyes. His gaze is a little surprised, but soon it softens into something so tender and gentle that Kurt can’t even feel embarrassed about how ridiculous and silly he must have sounded just now.

“Then you’ll have me forever,” Blaine says, his voice even and sincere.

He leans down slowly, and the kiss he presses against Kurt’s lips feels sweeter than any of those they’ve already traded tonight. It’s not a reassuring peck shared in the backseat of a cab or a heated kiss as they try to make their way through the apartment – it’s the safe and lingering pressure of Blaine’s lips moving against Kurt’s, sure and loving.

It feels a lot like a promise.


End file.
